Norwegian Wood

"I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me" "Norwegian Wood" (Lennon/McCartney).

With Norwegian Wood Murakami, best known as the author of off-kilter classics such as the Wind Up Bird Chronicle, A Wild Sheep Chase and Hard Boiled Wonderland, finally achieved widespread acclaim in his native Japan. The novel sold upwards of 4 million copies and forced the author t

"I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me" "Norwegian Wood" (Lennon/McCartney).

With Norwegian Wood Murakami, best known as the author of off-kilter classics such as the Wind Up Bird Chronicle, A Wild Sheep Chase and Hard Boiled Wonderland, finally achieved widespread acclaim in his native Japan. The novel sold upwards of 4 million copies and forced the author to retreat to Europe, fearful of the expectations accompanying his new-found cult status.

The novel is atypical for Murakami: seemingly autobiographical, in the tradition of many Japanese "I" novels, Norwegian Wood is a simple coming of age tale set, primarily, in 1969/70, the time of Murakami's own university years. The political upheavals and student strikes of the period form the backdrop of the novel but the focus here is the young Watanabe's love affairs and the pain (and pleasure) of growing up with all its attendant losses, (self-)obsessions and crises.

The novel is split into two volumes and beautifully presented here in a "gold" box containing both the green book and the red book. Young Japanese fans became so obsessed with the work that they would dress entirely in one or other colour denoting which volume they most identified with. And the novel is hugely affecting, reading like a cross between Plath's Bell Jar and Vizinczey's In Praise of Older Women, if less complex and ultimately less satisfying than Murakami's other, more allegorical, work. He captures the huge expectation of youth, and of this particular time in history, for the future and for the place of love in it. He also saturates the work with sadness, an emotion that can cripple a novel but which here underscores the poignancy of the work's rather thin subject matter. --Mark Thwaite

Reader Q&A

Popular Answered Questions

NicoleHmm...I would disagree with Zeke and say the movie was actually not that close to the book. And I'm not usually a stickler for accuracy, but it seemed…moreHmm...I would disagree with Zeke and say the movie was actually not that close to the book. And I'm not usually a stickler for accuracy, but it seemed to confuse a lot of events and motives. Here's an instance that I would suggest reading the book before seeing the film. :)(less)

For people older than me, the most significant birthday was their 21st.

But when the age of legal adulthood was reduced to 18, turning 21 no longer had the same significance it once had.

Before then, you could be conscripted into the armed forces at 18, but you could not drink alcohol until you turned 21.

So, if you were old enough to die for your country, surely you were old enough to have a drink?

Either way, turning 20 for me meant that I hadTwenty Revolutions

My most feared birthday was my 20th.

For people older than me, the most significant birthday was their 21st.

But when the age of legal adulthood was reduced to 18, turning 21 no longer had the same significance it once had.

Before then, you could be conscripted into the armed forces at 18, but you could not drink alcohol until you turned 21.

So, if you were old enough to die for your country, surely you were old enough to have a drink?

Either way, turning 20 for me meant that I had ceased to be a teenager, a group of people linked only by the fact that their age ended in the suffix “-teen”, but still it felt special not belonging to the grown up crowd.

On the other side of 20, you emerge from university (if you’ve been lucky enough to go there) and dive straight into full-time employment, maturity, responsibility, expectations and adulthood.

Suddenly, things are all a lot more serious, more permanent, less experimental, or this is how it seems.

Japanese-Style

Haruki Murakami writes about the Japanese experience in “Norwegian Wood”.

It’s set in the years 1968 to 1970, so it mightn’t be the same now.

However, it seems that the transition into adulthood is more demanding, more stressful.

It also seems that there are more casualties, more teenagers fail to make the transition and end up committing suicide.

Murakami writes about the transition almost like it’s a game of snakes and ladders.

You can climb into the future, success and normality, or you can slide into darkness, failure and death.

Well, Well

Murakami’s protagonist, Toru Watanabe, pictures the darkness as a well-like abyss early in the novel when he recounts the events of a day he spent with the girl he longs for, Naoko.

“I can describe the well in minute detail. It lay precisely on the border where the meadow ended and the woods began – a dark opening in the earth a yard across, hidden by grass. Nothing marked its perimeter – no fence, no stone curb (at least not one that rose above ground level). It was nothing but a hole, a wide-open mouth…You could lean over the edge and peer down to see nothing. All I knew about the well was its frightening depth. It was deep beyond measuring, and crammed full of darkness, as if all the world’s darknesses had been boiled down to their ultimate density.”

As a teenager, Toru’s life had been fairly innocuous, he had been playing in a meadow compared with the thicket that awaited him in the future.

But first he had to avoid the well in making the transition.

As his friend Reiko says in another context:

“She and I were bound together at the border between life and death.”

There is a sense in which we have to negotiate the boundaries as safely as we can, to cross the border and close the gap.

If we are lucky, we can do it together.

Unfortunately, not everybody is destined to make it into the forest and out the other side.

Vanishing Act

The overwhelming feel of reading “Norwegian Wood” is one of being in a blank, dream-like, ethereal world.

Although Murakami describes people, surroundings and objects with precision, it all seems other worldly, as if everybody lives and breathes in a world beyond this world.

There is a sense that at any moment, it could all disappear, that it might all just be part of some cosmic vanishing act.

Even if we make it through, we might turn around and discover that some of our friends haven’t been so lucky.

Talking about My Generation

Most of the action in the novel is dialogue, the characters talking about themselves and their relationships.

They are preoccupied with themselves, introspective and self-centred.

They converse, they play folk songs on the guitar, they write letters that are later burned.

Nobody makes anything that will last, other than perhaps themselves and the relationships that are able to survive into adulthood.

They struggle for permanence, when everything else around them is ephemeral.

Even their memories fade.

In the “frightful silence” of the forest, Naoko asks Toru:

“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”

Of course, he responds that he will, although 20 years later, he finds that his memory “has grown increasingly dim.”

“What if I’ve forgotten the most important thing? What if somewhere inside me there is a dark limbo where all the truly important memories are heaped and slowly turning into mud?...the thought fills me with an almost unbearable sorrow.”

To which he adds, “Because Naoko never loved me.”

“Norwegian Wood”

The Beatles song features throughout the novel.

It’s a favourite of Naoko’s and Reiko plays it frequently on her guitar.

For much of the novel, the lyrics could describe Toru’s relationship with Naoko and his other love interest, Midori:

“I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me.”

There is a sense of sadness in the sexual subject matter of this novel, almost as if it's been written in a minor key.

Reiko sums up the Beatles pretty accurately, “Those guys sure knew something about the sadness of life,” she says, before adding, “and gentleness”, almost as an afterthought.

She Never Loved Me

I love all of this talk of love and longing and loss and loneliness and labyrinths (all the “L” words).

Not everybody feels the same, though.

You should have heard my wife, F.M. Sushi, when she noticed my tears and stole a look at what I was reading.

“Why don’t these people just stop moaning and get a life. Can’t they just grow up, for chrissake. Everybody’s responsible for their own orgasm.”

Then she flicked the book back at me across the room, adding defiantly (and defeating my prospects that night in one fell swoop), “Especially you.”

I pick up the book, find my place and resume reading where I left off (page 10), equally defiantly, and aloud...“Because Naoko never loved me.”

My wife turns her back on me as I snicker at her lack of understanding of my gentle side.

Growing Up (How Strange the Change from Minor to Major)

Still, a few hundred pages later, I am stunned by her prescience.

Toru grows up in Murakami’s delicate hands.

He has to stop dreaming, he has to live in the present, he has to embrace the now that is in front of him, he has to love the one he’s with.

He has to distance himself from the past, so that it becomes just a lingering memory.

Reiko tells him:

“You’re all grown up now, so you have to take responsibility for your choices. Otherwise, you ruin everything.”

Midori (who he has ummed and ahhed about) tells him:

“...you, well, you’re special to me. When I’m with you I feel something is just right. I believe in you. I like you. I don’t want to let you go.”

In the pouring rain, she reveals to Toru she has broken up with the boyfriend that has prevented her from committing to him.

“Why?” he asks.

“Are you crazy?” she screams. “You know the English subjunctive, you understand trigonometry, you can read Marx, and you don’t know the answer to something as simple as that?

Then in a scene that could come straight out of "Casablanca", she says:

“Drop the damn umbrella and wrap both your arms around me – hard!”

How did F.M. Sushi know this would happen?

That Toru would grow up and get a girl, not just any girl?

That they would fall in love and not into a deep, dark well.

Still I prefer Murakami’s way of telling the story.

It always comes as a surprise the way he tells it, the change from minor to major.

What would my wife know of these things?

What I find mysterious, she finds obvious.

When I find the harbour hard to fathom, she appears to walk on water.

If you put her in a labyrinth, she would always find her way out.

Whereas sometimes I prefer to hang around and enjoy the experience of being down in the rabbit hole.

Mystified. Confused. Excited.

At least for a little wile.

Original Review: October 3, 2011

Audio Recording of My Review

Bird Brian once initiated a Big Audio Project, where Good Readers record and publish their reviews. Unfortunately, BB deleted his page after the amazon acquisition of GR.

My recording of this review was my first contribution. You can find it on SoundCloud here:

How this book became one of Murakami's most famous and popular baffles me. In fact, when asked about it in an interview, Murakami himself said that he was puzzled by its popularity and that it really isn't what he wants to be known for.

What can I say? There's too little of the characters that do spark my interest and much too much of the depressive girlfriend and her kooky friend at the mental institution. Also, the scenes which were supposed to be funny about his college roommate didn't intereHow this book became one of Murakami's most famous and popular baffles me. In fact, when asked about it in an interview, Murakami himself said that he was puzzled by its popularity and that it really isn't what he wants to be known for.

What can I say? There's too little of the characters that do spark my interest and much too much of the depressive girlfriend and her kooky friend at the mental institution. Also, the scenes which were supposed to be funny about his college roommate didn't interest me at all and ultimately struck me as dark and disturbing.

Perhaps this book resonated with so many people because (view spoiler)[there were three suicides in it (hide spoiler)]? No, that can't be. Murakami deals with depression much more thoughtfully and insightfully in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

The worst thing about this book's popularity is that it may be some readers' introduction to Murakami, which would very likely lead them to form a negative opinion of him and not care to explore his other works, which is just awful. This book should come with a warning: "Not recommended for pregnant women, may be carcinogenic, and not representative of Murakami's great genius." ["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>...more

Sandra BarronThis was thoughtful Alex, thanks. I like the idea of Japanese repression being a cause. I was baffled by so many suicides; let's not forget Reiko's olThis was thoughtful Alex, thanks. I like the idea of Japanese repression being a cause. I was baffled by so many suicides; let's not forget Reiko's older sister. The only other context I've ever heard of (in real life or literature) of teens dropping like dominoes is The Virgin Suicides....more
Jan 26, 2015 12:54PM

MorganI am almost half way through this book and I was looking at the reviews to see if anyone else wasn't as into this book as I was. Seems still that so fI am almost half way through this book and I was looking at the reviews to see if anyone else wasn't as into this book as I was. Seems still that so far at least I am in the minority. The character are a bit boring. Jw did you think the main character was interesting at all? because his personality isn't there in my opinion. I enjoy the writer descriptive writing style and I would love to read something else by this him. If you could recommend some of your favorites I would appreciate it. =)...more
Feb 20, 2015 09:56PM

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.Before I begin may it be known that this was not my first Murakami. I read Kafka on the Shore and loved it. I read Wind-up Bird Chronicle and loved that too. So I got to thinking that maybe I should read the book that made him famous, the book that everyone in Japan is said to have read, that compelled Murakami to flee the country to escape the media attention. How disappointed I was when I finished. Also, I wrote this on iPad so the punctuation and capitalisation is off. I tried to fix all theBefore I begin may it be known that this was not my first Murakami. I read Kafka on the Shore and loved it. I read Wind-up Bird Chronicle and loved that too. So I got to thinking that maybe I should read the book that made him famous, the book that everyone in Japan is said to have read, that compelled Murakami to flee the country to escape the media attention. How disappointed I was when I finished. Also, I wrote this on iPad so the punctuation and capitalisation is off. I tried to fix all the auto correct but I may have missed a few.

The characters in this book are all loathsome. Toru Watanabe, the main character, is a self-pitying man looking back on his days at university in Tokyo during the student riots in 1969-1970 when he supposedly "fell in love". He attempts to paint himself as a "nice guy", deluded into believing himself to be honest and who has "never lied in his life" (an idea which is refuted several times in the novel. E.g. When midori asks him whether he slept with Naoko since and he replies "we didn't do anything" - yeah, 'cause people generally rub up naked against each other and give blow jobs to anyone and everyone. You know, that's nothing. Also, bottom of page 350. Yeah) which often came off as whiny whenever he "felt bad" over the fact that he was not self-entitled to screwing people over and actually felt guilt (although this guilt only tended to manifest itself awhile later when he actually got around to thinking about people other than himself). One of many puzzling traits was his insistence at naming every single book and song that he was reading/listening to despite most of them being easily interchangeable, replaceable and irrelevant seeing as they had no correlation whatsoever to the plot or character development (a few exceptions being the song 'Norwegian Wood' [obviously], Das Kapital in relation with the setting of the student riots and the time, and there was a part where Toru was comparing himself to "Jay Gatsby watch(ing) that tiny light on the opposite shore night after night" [although I cringed at the feeble struggle to relate this tacky soap-operatic tale of Toru's wuv for Naoko's body to a symbol signifying Gatsby's obsession to repossess and re-enact what has evolved into a doomed and glittering illusion and the idea that the dream has surpassed the real and is better experienced from a distance]). Seriously, the number of smug name dropping probably extended the book a few dozen pages and you would think that someone who read so much would have at least developed even the smallest amount of empathy but, for all I know, Toru Watanabe spent all his time reading with his eyes glazed over thinking and feeling sorry for himself that he has to feel guilt over using girls as rebound.

What was even more depressing about this book was that every single female character was weak and dependent. From I'm-pretending-to-do-the-tough-girl-act-but-in-a-cute-subservient-way Midori who is needy and whiny (she has reasons for being moody and throwing tantrums but there are absolutely no excuses for being cruel and manipulative which is what she does to win Toru's heart) to I-don't-love-you-but-you-want-sex-and-blowjobs-and-I-can't-say-no-to-men Naoko to I'm-so-independent-and-empowering-and-independent-but-I-have-a-"small stomach"-and-can't-eat-much-*coughi'minsecureaboutmyselfcough* Reiko. Midori, however, is the character who ticks the generic box of 'being different', a thin veil attempting to hide the fact that she is actually the fantasy girlfriend of lot of insecure men. She is cute, she is kinky, desperate to sexually please men, is interested in "fuck(ing) like crazy", she is friendly and social with a lot of people, she cooks good food, cleans and is a hard worker and shows that she can slavishly take care of men ie domestic goddess. "I'm looking for selfishness. Perfect selfishness. Like, say I tell you I want to eat strawberry shortbread. And you stop everything you're doing and run out and buy it for me. And you come back out of breath and get down on your knees and hold this strawberry shortbread out to me. And I say I don't want it any more and throw it out the window. That's what I'm looking for." Are we supposed to find this endearing? Are we supposed to read this in wonder and awe and repeat to ourselves what Toru says afterward: "I've never met a girl like you"?

The thing is, it is in Murakami's style to present a lot of truisms and while in his other works, they are intertwined with the surreal in such a way that it doesn't matter whether they are huge generalisations or just really cheesy because they come from dreamlike layers echoing the absurd and the interior monologue of the character and so it isn't preachy, just something to think about. In Norwegian Wood, they are brash and blunt. The characters make sweeping and often blindly hypocritical and prejudiced assumptions disguised in the appearance of truth mostly about how they are so 'different' and everyone else are such boring sheep (in predictable hipster style: "liek omigod, i'm, liek, sooo unique and different?!?! Liek omigod, my tiny brain never thought of that!!!!") such as "never again would she have that self-centred beauty that seems to take its own independent course in adolescent girls and no one else". So ALL adolescent girls are all self-centred (sorry, self-centred beauty - like totally a compliment!!! *eyeroll*), huh, and Toru here wants US to think that HE is so exceptional when he manages to group half the population into (at one point) possessing a particular trait? There are a lot of "I don't know, I'm just a girl" moments but I reaaaaally don't want to have to open the book again and go look for them.

I could go on and on about how odious Naoko and Reiko were but this review is getting really long and all I've been talking about are the characters.

The plot, in all its boring and barely existing glory:Toru Watanabe runs into Naoko, the girlfriend of Kizuki, his high school best friend (who had suicided a couple of years previous), and realises she has a hawt body. On her birthday he rapes (sorry, "makes love" to) her while she's distraught over Kizuki and she runs away to a mental asylum to get better. Toru whinges about loneliness. He meets Midori. Everything gets dragged out about how they are both sad and lonely. Toru visits Naoko at the asylum and meets her roommate, Reiko. Toru chooses Midori over naoko because she is a "real, live girl". Naoko commits suicide. Toru and Reiko fuck in her memory.

Half the book is whinge and whine, the other half objectifies women.

Positives:

1. Murakami writes beautifully. It's as simple as that. Norwegian Wood is what you would get if you stamped a picture of the ceiling of the Sistine chapel onto a pair of crocs.

2. My mum likes the Beatles song and I've also had the song stuck in my head since reading this book.

C.reiderSpot on. I actually enjoyed it, but I'd have a hard time recommending it, because it's all objectification and weak women characters who just exist toSpot on. I actually enjoyed it, but I'd have a hard time recommending it, because it's all objectification and weak women characters who just exist to sit on Toru's dick. Lame....more
Feb 10, 2015 09:38PM

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me... She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere, So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh. I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown So I litI once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me... She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere, So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh. I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown So I lit a fire, isn't it good, Norwegian wood.

- The Beatles

Haruki Murakami’s novel Norwegian Wood is a love story: on author’s own confession, “a straight, simple story” quite unlike the type of fiction he is well known for. Murakami claims the novel was a challenge to him, a test of his capability to write a “straight” story; many of his fans see it as a betrayal of what his works had stood for until then. Not having read any of Murakami’s works so far, I had the advantage of approaching it with an unprejudiced mind. And I found that while the story was straight, it was anything but simple.

The novel is one bunch of impressions. The prose is sensual, even voluptuous: descriptions of landscapes and weather are done in long and loving detail. There is very little exploration of inner mental states, other than as broad description of emotions, even though we are listening to only one voice throughout the book. It is rather like stream of consciousness turned outward.

I have been trying to do a traditional review of this book for quite some time now, but have been finding it impossible. So I will give you my impressions of reading the book.

Reading Norwegian Wood (for me) is like sitting on the porch at twilight during a rare break in the rains during the monsoon, watching the golden rays of the dying sun light up the rain-drenched earth, and filling your lungs with the smell of the rain.

Reading Norwegian Wood is like waking up on a winter morning, opening the window and getting hit in the face by an invigorating blast of icy East Wind.

Reading Norwegian Wood is like staying up late, listening to the harmonious cacophony of drums at our local temple festival, inhaling the aroma of the burning lamp wicks and incense.

I can't explain it! I want to inhale the pages of this book, grind them up, and snort them right up my nose! I want in placed directly in my brain, my very Bloodstream! Murakami's words make me feel just like Nicole Kidman in that scene in Moulin Rouge where she is rolling around on that fur rug in her negligee, moaning and writhing in pleasure and saying 'Yes! Yes! Dirty words! More! More! Naughty words!' Although Murakami's words aren't so much naughty and dirty as they are prismatic and mysteI can't explain it! I want to inhale the pages of this book, grind them up, and snort them right up my nose! I want in placed directly in my brain, my very Bloodstream! Murakami's words make me feel just like Nicole Kidman in that scene in Moulin Rouge where she is rolling around on that fur rug in her negligee, moaning and writhing in pleasure and saying 'Yes! Yes! Dirty words! More! More! Naughty words!' Although Murakami's words aren't so much naughty and dirty as they are prismatic and mysterious. I wish I could weave his sentences into a rug to roll around on. They're magical and mystical... they break my heart....more

This Story is on one side a story of misadventure and a melancholic exploration of adolescent love and another side a thought-provoking and poignant study of memory, morality and mortality. Murakami never disappoints and always writes with a poetic richness that leaves almost every line hanging with symbolic possibility, loved it! The main protagonist takes you back to the 1960s and his youthful goings on with his peers, his adventures are steamy so comes with adult warning! The story is set inThis Story is on one side a story of misadventure and a melancholic exploration of adolescent love and another side a thought-provoking and poignant study of memory, morality and mortality. Murakami never disappoints and always writes with a poetic richness that leaves almost every line hanging with symbolic possibility, loved it! The main protagonist takes you back to the 1960s and his youthful goings on with his peers, his adventures are steamy so comes with adult warning! The story is set in thriving Tokyo and also shifts location to a relaxed mountainous retreat. You really get to love the characters that Murakami creates which I also felt with his other novel The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. To think that his works have been translated from Japanese into English and still hold a poetic and deeply thought-provoking quality is truly mesmerising stuff. It's by no means just a love story. This story is more about lived experiences, where his other novels have tones of supernatural and incorporated mind games. The book title if you are wondering is taken from a Beatles track 'Norwegian Wood' which is one of the novel's characters favourite songs.

There is a movie adapted from this book which is worth checking out, that was what gave me the incentive to read this book during April instead of 'Kafka on the Shore' of which i was more eager to read before this title. Thanks to the movie release prompting me, turned out was one excellent story of Love and Loss. Considering I used same procedure 'read the book watch the movie' with a few other novels and was disappointed with books like 'Let the right one in' 'Girl who played with fire' 'Never let me go' and 'Rosemary's baby' theres still hope for watching the movie adaptations of these titles, now I need to find time to watch these movies.Review also here on my webpage...more

“That song can make me feel so sad,” said Naoko. “I don't know, I guess I imagine myself wandering in a deep wood. I'm all alone and it's cold and dark, and nobody comes to save me. That's why Reiko never plays it unless I request it.”- Naoko about Norwegian Wood

“It makes me feel like I'm in a big meadow in a soft rain.” - Naoko about Michelle.

“Thinking back on the year 1969, all that comes to mind for me is a swamp - a deep, sticky bog that feels as if it's going to suck off my shoe each time“That song can make me feel so sad,” said Naoko. “I don't know, I guess I imagine myself wandering in a deep wood. I'm all alone and it's cold and dark, and nobody comes to save me. That's why Reiko never plays it unless I request it.”- Naoko about Norwegian Wood

“It makes me feel like I'm in a big meadow in a soft rain.” - Naoko about Michelle.

“Thinking back on the year 1969, all that comes to mind for me is a swamp - a deep, sticky bog that feels as if it's going to suck off my shoe each time I take a step. I walk through the mud, exhausted.In front of me, behind me, I can see nothing but the endless darkness of a swamp. Time itself slogged along in rhythm with my faltering steps. The people around me had gone on ahead long before, while my time and I hung back, struggling through the mud. The world around me was on the verge of great transformations. Death had already taken John Coltrane who was joined now by so many others. People screamed there would be revolutionary changes- which always seemed to be just ahead, at the curve in the road. But the changes that came were just two-dimensional stage sets, backdrops without substance or meaning.I trudged along through each day in its turn, rarely looking up, eyes locked on the never-ending swamp that lay before me, planting my right foot, raising my left, planting my left foot, raising my right, never sure where I was, never sure I was headed in the right direction, knowing only that I had to keep moving, one step at a time.”

I'd been waiting for a book like this all my life. A book which holds my hand and takes me to a special place. I don't know who I am in that place, I only remember what I felt. This is it.

They caressed an intimate part of my soul, those idyllic summer afternoons in college spent listening to Rubber Soul with a battered book in hand. I was happy to be exactly where I was. I had nothing to do and nowhere to be. I could have lain there and listened to the opening strains of Girl again and again. Like McCartney, I just needed someone to hear my story. I was very glad to be lost; in conversation, in reflection, in anything which catalyzed and spurred on my natural instinct to dream. I felt like a child who has wandered away after school and has no intention of going home until he has seen some unfamiliar parts of the city. A little part of me was in a crowded street lined with colourful stalls selling delicious food. Another part of me was on a crowded bus looking at adults going about their business and feeling grown up. The world was full of endless possibilities, all of them in parallel realities, comfortably within the reach of my invincible spirit . I was delightfully disoriented, my mind continually wandering, pausing to reflect on women, to the finer aspects of Paul's bass playing, then moving on to the futile task of figuring out my favourite Beatles album.

I was walking down a long corridor of white doors with oak shelves of thoughts and bouquets. I opened one door and found myself in a row of ebony doors, which glistened in the light like someone had splashed water on it and then wiped the floor beneath it clean. I was bewildered to see that there was no way out of this corridor. I went on opening doors, making my way through endless corridors until I reached a corridor with a grey stone wall which stared back at me. The wall dissolved into a girl who had pleaded togetherness through teary eyes. It turned into her fingers brushing against my cheek for the last time, into her lingering scent on my clothes. Then I opened my eyes and the wall reappeared. I trudged along the edge, scratching the wall with my fingernails aching for the white door, but all I found was the wall whose austere intensity asked me to stop all further advances. I craned my neck to see where the wall ended and found a photo of George looking down at me. In my head, Here Comes The Sun started playing. Another song, another trip. On many a cool winter morning, I'd woken up, looked at my sun-tinted window pane and played this song, urged by habit and George's gentle crooning. He was telling me to go and look at that magnificent sun. And so I did. I let that guitar strumming do what it does best, unclog my mind of everything trivially distressing. What remained was the unmistakeable feeling of happiness waiting for me around the bend. It's all right. It's all right.

I had opened my doors to unspeakable things and a jungle awaited me on the other side. I didn't know whether I should get into the fray or let my way take it's final form. I thought I had it; the knowledge of knowing what I was doing.

Those warm afternoons and cool mornings are a bittersweet Beatlesque void in my mind. I ache for that time now and then. Norwegian Wood has the gentleness which comes close to filling that void. The book doesn't fix a fist down the void and widen it. It fills it with honey, enough honey to warm my soul and send sugary shivers of nostalgia down my spine. It affords me one more look through the good ol' retroscope.

This is a book which revels in the past, wallows in the past, afraid to move, trudges along the present dragging its feet on the road making a sound like the languid echoes of Death's footsteps. This is a book about how Death and your past are not beyond your life, they are part of your life. They are part of who you are.

It is pervaded by a spirit of adolescent alienation. You know, that strange unshakeable belief that takes over us at some point in our lives. A voice which whispers to us our deepest fears, that we are vastly different from the rest of the world, that they don't understand who we are and that it's only our fault it is this way. But the tone of the book is not angry or bitter. On the other hand, it's a gentle celebration of this aloofness. It makes you want to feel the intense emotions the characters experience; with dignity.

It's about how close friendships influence our lives, whether you like it or not. At the same time it speaks of a spiritual solitude in us. We have to battle our inner demons at all times and places. No one else can know what's on our mind. We can only hope to touch someone else's life and change it in ways we're unaware of. It tells us that we are players who meet each other at the football field for a game. At times we kick the ball around for a while, laugh heartily among ourselves and leave the field, slapping each others' backs. Sometimes, we accuse each other of unfair play and forget it was just a game.

And all those girls. How can I forget them? Girls who were overcome by the grossness of reality. Girls who weren't strong enough. Girls who didn't want to be strong. Girls who wanted love. Love they thought they deserved, love they didn't know they needed. Girls who shouted when they were angry. Girls who wept in the bathroom under the shower.

The simply seductive prose of the book calls for a sensory reading. A reading that is suspiciously like dreaming, as you are transported to a time and place that is unknown, yet intimate....more

Question: How much Norwegian Wood would a Norwegian woodchuck chuck if a Norwegian woodchuck could chuck Norwegian Wood? Answer: The same amount as a Swedish woodchuck. So I read 160 pages of this novel. Then I hit a four-day Reader’s Block (also precipitated by problems in my personal life, but I’ll save those for Oprah) and read nothing. I called a librarian and explained the problem. She suggested I undergo an intense course of Murakami Avoidance Therapy (MAT), whereby I put down all MurakamiQuestion: How much Norwegian Wood would a Norwegian woodchuck chuck if a Norwegian woodchuck could chuck Norwegian Wood? Answer: The same amount as a Swedish woodchuck. So I read 160 pages of this novel. Then I hit a four-day Reader’s Block (also precipitated by problems in my personal life, but I’ll save those for Oprah) and read nothing. I called a librarian and explained the problem. She suggested I undergo an intense course of Murakami Avoidance Therapy (MAT), whereby I put down all Murakamis I am reading at that moment and read writers who are not Murakami. And you know what, I was cured! Those librarians know what they are talking about . . . even if they can’t string a sentence together. So I put Murakami down. It was a relief. Because those first 160 pages were so inconsequential and drab, so unremarkable and airy, I felt like I was walking through an airport terminal at 4AM on a Prozac-laden soporific in my slippers . . . walking towards the bookstore where Murakami’s Norwegian Wood sits on the bestseller list, to be read by people-too-busy-to-read-books who think this is the cutting edge of contemporary literature, and in translation too, so twice as chic and clever, despite nothing happening except a dull student who thinks he’s Holden Caulfield hanging out with a bland-but-mysterious possible lover, then a clichéd playboy who introduces him to casual sex, then another girl who almost shakes the novel back into life but no, zzzzzzzzzzzzz. And the translator sort of loves the phrase sort of . . . people are sort of people and kind of humans, but are more insert-faux-poetic-description here, or perhaps sort of human after all, no? So thanks, librarian! MAT has saved me from four more hours of mediocrity! Hug a librarian tomorrow!...more

CarlCould not have said it better. I was so bored, I rushed through the book to be rid of it (had to finish for a book club). I also made the mistake of wCould not have said it better. I was so bored, I rushed through the book to be rid of it (had to finish for a book club). I also made the mistake of watching the movie which was worse...ponderous, lots of pregnant pauses, staring each others eyes, and constant heavy violin music. Just dreadful!...more
8 hours, 21 min ago

This is apparently the Murakami book that "everyone" in Japan has read, and disaffected protagonist Toru Watanabe is apparently a Holden Caulfield-esque figure for a lot of Japanese youth. To me, though, the book less reflects Catcher in the Rye than it predicts Zach Braff's Garden State, an ode to a time in life when the big choices seem so big that you don't end up making them at all, and find yourself instead drawn to the safety and comfort of nostalgia and memory.

Though it's set in Japan, anThis is apparently the Murakami book that "everyone" in Japan has read, and disaffected protagonist Toru Watanabe is apparently a Holden Caulfield-esque figure for a lot of Japanese youth. To me, though, the book less reflects Catcher in the Rye than it predicts Zach Braff's Garden State, an ode to a time in life when the big choices seem so big that you don't end up making them at all, and find yourself instead drawn to the safety and comfort of nostalgia and memory.

Though it's set in Japan, and the late '60s, it has a universal emotional current that doesn't feel dated one bit. It's darkly emotional but also surprisingly sexy and funny. Toru is the signature Murakami protagonist, just a few years younger than we're used to seeing him, and the women are given more presence and substance than they were allowed in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, even if they are all a little too eager to jump into bed with Toru, who kind of seems like a loser.

That's even if, and here's really what solidified the connection to Garden State in my mind, Midori, who is a fabulously entertaining character, is also basically a stock manic pixie dream girl, with all the associated hangups and quirks and buried secrets. It works better on the page, since I never wanted to punch her in the face for doing hot dog dances or going on and on about The Shins.

I really wish I'd read this in college, just like I really wish I'd read Catcher in high school, but I still think it plays at any age....more

Ailsa"they are all a little too eager to jump into bed with Toru, who kind of seems like a loser" So true. Pretty much every female character in the book w"they are all a little too eager to jump into bed with Toru, who kind of seems like a loser" So true. Pretty much every female character in the book wants to get with Toru for no discernible reason. Great review....more
Jun 18, 2014 01:44PM

Brandon Cahall"...an ode to a time in life when the big choices seem so big that you don't end up making them at all, and find yourself instead drawn to the safety"...an ode to a time in life when the big choices seem so big that you don't end up making them at all, and find yourself instead drawn to the safety and comfort of nostalgia and memory" - Perfect description!...more
Aug 16, 2014 08:46PM

Great ending. This sure was the saddest book I've ever read. Seems very dark and depressing, but the light comes out at the very end and you can see the sunshine through the clouds. I've never read a book like this and to be honest, I'm not sure I ever want to read another one. It just takes a piece of you and leaves you feeling a little empty. I don't even know how to explain it. It's like traveling up a mountainside on a dark gray day. Yes, the beauty is still there, but you have to look for iGreat ending. This sure was the saddest book I've ever read. Seems very dark and depressing, but the light comes out at the very end and you can see the sunshine through the clouds. I've never read a book like this and to be honest, I'm not sure I ever want to read another one. It just takes a piece of you and leaves you feeling a little empty. I don't even know how to explain it. It's like traveling up a mountainside on a dark gray day. Yes, the beauty is still there, but you have to look for it. You don't even notice the beauty before you because of the overcast skies. The higher up you go, the more drained you feel. At the very end, as you reach the top, you're bone weary and exhausted, both mentally and physically, but suddenly you can see above the clouds and it's so bright that your eyes hurt and the whole mountain suddenly looks different...you suddenly feel renewed...the world you thought was gloomy and gray is suddenly bright and new....and beautiful........more

The Beginning heralds the end. The End initiates a beginning. In between lies a cycle. A cycle where words rain, feelings gush like a river towards the ocean called life, and the ocean hides the abyss of uncertainty. You just sway along this journey, along with Murakami.

"Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right"

Sometimes when you are sitting in peace, ensconced in the metaphorical warmth of a house and you hear the clock chime, making you realize that the time is running fast. It saddens youThe Beginning heralds the end. The End initiates a beginning. In between lies a cycle. A cycle where words rain, feelings gush like a river towards the ocean called life, and the ocean hides the abyss of uncertainty. You just sway along this journey, along with Murakami.

"Here comes the sun, and I say It's all right"

Sometimes when you are sitting in peace, ensconced in the metaphorical warmth of a house and you hear the clock chime, making you realize that the time is running fast. It saddens you and sends a disturbing ripple on the lake of peace. Events. Murakami is a master horologist.

"And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flownSo I lit a fire, isn't it good, norwegian wood."

Ever get a feeling that someone has tapped into your thoughts by sending a probe in your mind? Dr. Murakami specializes in this. He evaluates your questions, analyzes your thoughts and dynamically modifies his words to answer some of the questions, at the same time planting some more. Making you stop and think.

"I'll get to you somehowUntil I do I'm telling you so you'll understand"

Who is Toru Watanabe? To me, he felt like a mid way between the protagonist of Camus' Outsider and Holden Scholfield.

"But the fool on the hill,Sees the sun going down,And the eyes in his head,See the world spinning 'round."

There is a surreal feeling hinting at an underlining, hidden meaning or information whenever Murakami explains or describes even the mundane things. The characters are fully developed representations of life and it's meanings. Watanabe (a paper boat on the water, Kizuki and Naoko's link to the outside world, observer, listener), Kizuki (conversationalist, gregarious within a closed circle), Naoko (perfect companion, uncertain, devoted), Hatsumi (patience, dedication), Nagasawa (flamboyance), Reiko (experience), The Ami Hostel (a world within world where accepting yourself makes you fit in, where reality is identified with in a much better sense than the real world), Midori (style, innocent naughtiness, pragmatic), Midori's Dad (a man burdened by the system), Storm Trooper (the scape goat)... Everyone represents some part of the human behavior or trait or characteristic. They aren't just characters. But then to quote from the book:"I can't tell whether this kind of analysis is trying to simplify the world or complicate it."

"People are strange, when you're a stranger."

Nagasawa is Tyler Durden. You do not talk about..."Neither of us is interested, essentially, in anything but ourselves. OK, so I'm arrogant and he's not, but neither of us is able to feel any interest in anything other than what we ourselves think or feel or do. That's why we can think about things in a way that's totally divorced from anybody else. That's what I like about him. The only difference is that he hasn't realized this about himself, and so he hesitates and feels hurt."

"All the lonely peopleWhere do they all come from?All the lonely peopleWhere do they all belong?"

You tend to lose your way in the dialogues. Where induced feelings and your own feelings seem to resonate. Beautiful articulation of words and meanings. The way fine whiskey dissolves your blurry past and sharpens the most heartfelt memories.

"Suddenly, I'm not half to man I used to be,There's a shadow hanging over me.Oh, yesterday came suddenly."

Sometimes within all the mundane stuff comes a hard hitting line. Hard hitting and deeply poignant. Makes you go back and read it again. Just to realize the gravity of the meaning. Leaves you cold.

"For well you know that it's a fool who plays it coolBy making his world a little colder"

"So, if you understand me better, what then?" Is this book a commentary on how we look at things around us, try to understand some, understand few of the some, try to adapt, but eventually throw the towel and move on? Never trying to simplify us, our intentions, our motives, or our feelings? Like I just have used the words "intention" and "motives" without really trying to fathom the difference between them. Always inclined towards a complexity that hides and cozily blankets our insecurities and fallacies?

"Send me a postcard, drop me a line,Stating point of view.Indicate precisely what you mean to sayYours sincerely, Wasting Away."

Love. Love is something where reason stops.

"Even a rat will choose the least painful route if you shock him enough""But rats don't fall in love."

-I have cited some verses from the Beatles' songs (One of them Doors) mentioned in the book. They form the real review. My words are just fillers....more

UGH!!!This book bugged the hell out of me for a few reasons:#1. There is a somewhat extended passage devoted to a lesbian encounter that wouldn't be so terrible in and of itself, as sex in general is a major topic BUT the novel as a whole leaned towards describing the physiological experience the woman were having and would brush over the mens again and again. There would be like 5 paragraphs on the woman and then 1 sentence were it would say something along the lines of, "she took me in her hanUGH!!!This book bugged the hell out of me for a few reasons:#1. There is a somewhat extended passage devoted to a lesbian encounter that wouldn't be so terrible in and of itself, as sex in general is a major topic BUT the novel as a whole leaned towards describing the physiological experience the woman were having and would brush over the mens again and again. There would be like 5 paragraphs on the woman and then 1 sentence were it would say something along the lines of, "she took me in her hand and I came".

GIVE ME A BREAK!!!

It seemed like an exercise in writing (hmmmm, what would it be like to write from the females perspective) more than a contributor factor to the story.

#2. The girls in this book were all needy, dysfunctional, emotional or detached but sexy as all get out while the male was unsentimental, level headed and also sexy.

#3. the main male character had sex with 3 of the girl main characters (as well as countless unnamed characters) and apparently he was FABULOUS at it because 2 of the characters decided that they would never have sex again. that it could never measure up.

This review has been hidden because it contains spoilers. To view it,
click here.Was this book a little ego-centric and self-serving? Yes. Did that prevent this book from being another example of Murakami's brilliance? No.

Come on, sex so great that two of the women decided never to have sex again because it just couldn't ever compare? Please! Sorry boys, I don't care what your sexual prowess in the bedroom is but no woman would ever come to the conclusion. Ever.

With that being said the rest of the book was filled with an insightful and poignant story that pushed Murakami aWas this book a little ego-centric and self-serving? Yes. Did that prevent this book from being another example of Murakami's brilliance? No.

Come on, sex so great that two of the women decided never to have sex again because it just couldn't ever compare? Please! Sorry boys, I don't care what your sexual prowess in the bedroom is but no woman would ever come to the conclusion. Ever.

With that being said the rest of the book was filled with an insightful and poignant story that pushed Murakami a little further up on my all time list.

It was interesting to compare and contrast two different views of suicide having recently finished DFW's Infinite Jest. Two completely different takes on what goes on with someone suicidal and those around them. It was interesting to see it from both sides.

Having read "Wind-up" before "Wood" I was able to see the inklings. Able to see H.M. planting seeds in his own subconscious that germinated later into another brilliant insightful book.

StuartI'm pretty sure that Naoko was traumatized by her encounter with Toru...
Jan 14, 2011 10:46PM

NearlyInfinite Jest is a world apart, a phenomenal work of both literature and imagination. Norwegian Wood is way too blown up for the tripe it is, but hey,Infinite Jest is a world apart, a phenomenal work of both literature and imagination. Norwegian Wood is way too blown up for the tripe it is, but hey, there's some mysterious legend surrounding Murakami that props all the goo he oozes and makes it gold (1Q84 comes to mind), so well, so be it....more
Sep 01, 2012 04:37AM

Sadness is indeed a very complicated emotion. It has the uncanny ability of dissolving the edges of reality surrounding you and immersing you completely in an alternate world, where only you and that feeling exist together in complete harmony. And nothing else matters. You luxuriate in the richness of its beauty and marvel at the tranquility it offers you.Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood evokes exactly similar kind of emotions in the reader.

There are some books you read, which leave you with stoSadness is indeed a very complicated emotion. It has the uncanny ability of dissolving the edges of reality surrounding you and immersing you completely in an alternate world, where only you and that feeling exist together in complete harmony. And nothing else matters. You luxuriate in the richness of its beauty and marvel at the tranquility it offers you.Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood evokes exactly similar kind of emotions in the reader.

There are some books you read, which leave you with stories-bitter, exciting, adrenaline-driven, romantic, depressing or grisly. And then there are books which leave you with feelings. Norwegian Wood, most definitely, belongs to the second category.And in my opinion, it is infinitely easier to deconstruct a story in a review rather than the feeling it leaves you with. But here's an attempt anyway.

This is a beautifully crafted, sombre but incredibly sensual tale of unfulfilled love where the central characters are, in all essence, broken individuals.In a most indolent manner, the book begins with our narrator Toru Watanabe, catching the strains of an orchestral version of The Beatles' 'Norwegian wood' on a flight to Hamburg and beginning to reminisce about a certain girl named Naoko, from the days of his youth in Tokyo. From hereon, the story is told as a flashback, as a sliver of memory that the 37-year old Toru has carefully preserved or perhaps is struggling not to forget.Majorly the story revolves around the trials and tribulations of the 3 key characters - Toru, Naoko and Midori.

Toru, a reserved young college student, is shown to be somewhat anti-social, not quite opening up to others as easily as others open up to him. There is a sense of profound sadness about him hidden skilfully under a veneer of indifference, probably arising out of the loss of his childhood friend Kizuki, who committed suicide at 17. While Naoko, Kizuki's first and only girlfriend, is a beautiful and emotionally fragile being who has been unable to grapple with the tragedy of Kizuki's untimely death. Still in mourning, bound by a mutual feeling of isolation, Toru and Naoko, forge an unnatural connection of sorts, when they cross each other's paths years later in Tokyo. Toru falls in love right away and even she feels something love-like for him, but sadly enough it is not enough to heal them both. Soon the emotionally unstable Naoko recedes to a sanatorium in mountainous Kyoto while Toru tries to continue with his life as an unremarkable university student, seeking comfort in sleeping with random women. In Naoko's continued absence from his life, he makes friends with the bright, sassy, sexually liberated Midori Kobayashi, who has had her fair share of tragedies too but still manages to be optimistic. An unlikely friendship with Midori, helps dissipate some of the darkness in Toru's life but he is still unable to get Naoko off his mind and keeps writing her letters irrespective of whether she sends a reply or not. The rest of the book details Toru's dilemma as he is torn between these two women, never too sure of whether to shun his troubled past and embrace reality as it comes or keep waiting for Naoko to fully recover from her festering psychological wounds.

Written in a lucid language, the book is full of metaphors usually represented by the description of natural scenery. Murakami's obsession with western classics and music is reflected in the countless references to Beatles numbers like "Yesterday", "Michelle", "Something", Bach, Mozart, Scarlatti and literary works of Joseph Conrad, Fitzgerald, Thomas Mann, Karl Marx and so on.

The brief overview of the plot does not, in any way, do justice to the story. For a book like Norwegian Wood cannot be summarized.It is about human relationships which cannot be given a name or a clear definition. It is about the ghastly spectre of death and the way the people who are no longer with us, sometimes leave us in a permanent state of damage. It is about friendship and love and sexuality. And most important of all, it is about sadness. In its cruelest yet most beautiful form. The inherent dreariness of the book gets to you at some point or the other, but Murakami's compelling story-telling ways, make sure you keep reading till the very end....more

Goddammit. I really wanted to hate this book. There's so much about it that I abhor, but I can't bring myself to give it less than three stars.

Sometimes, I joke with my sister that she needs to expand her character repertoire. Usually, her stories feature a nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy who's hopelessly in love with a girl, usually a manic pixie, who'll never have him. That boy spends most of his time staring at the girl, wondering if she likes another guy, complaining about how she treats himGoddammit. I really wanted to hate this book. There's so much about it that I abhor, but I can't bring myself to give it less than three stars.

Sometimes, I joke with my sister that she needs to expand her character repertoire. Usually, her stories feature a nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy who's hopelessly in love with a girl, usually a manic pixie, who'll never have him. That boy spends most of his time staring at the girl, wondering if she likes another guy, complaining about how she treats him like a child, and writing voyeuristic stories on his computer about said girl.

As I read Haruki Murakami's most popular work -- Norwegian Wood and Kafka on the Shore -- I am forced to come to the conclusion that his stories are exactly like the stories that the nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy would write whenever he wasn't staring at his manic pixie. Murakami's characters wish they could be Holden Caulfield, but for them, that's a hefty aspiration. No, Murakami's protagonists -- if you can even call them protagonists -- are borderline self-inserts, almost akin to the male leads in those horrid bro-comedies, written for nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys -- and nerdy, lonely, odd men.

Before you dismiss my criticisms, lets take a moment to think about this. What female characters can you relate to in his novels? They aren't actually characters. They're meant to force our so-called protagonist through his arc, often through eye-roll worthy sex-scenes that these nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys wish they could have. And, mind you, these protagonists don't just have regular sex -- they have mind blowing sex. And they don't just have it with one girl -- they have it with multiple girls, who all praise his sexual prowess.

But these nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys are too pretentious for manga. Therefor, they need their literary novels, strife with plotless melodrama, navel-gazing, and lots of sex with luke-warm females.

Please don't tell me that I don't get the brilliance behind Murakami's words. I've read Salinger, Maugham, and Fitzgerald. They do it better. They don't write self-inserts for their audience. And while their female characters are occasionally woe-fully underdeveloped, they don't worship the protagonist of their respective novels. As a female, I wonder what these women see in Murakami's males. They're nothing more than the Japanese version of the manic pixie. But then I remember that these females are just kuunderes and tsunderes -- nothing I haven't seen in any slice of life manga filled with nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boys who stare wistfully into the sky while cherry blossoms fall upon their silvery, wispy hair.

In fact, if you're a fan of this novel, I'd like to introduce you to Makoto Shinkai. He's a director with a style akin to Hayao Myazaki and a pen that lacks his talent. His characters stare at each other and wax emo poetry, akin to what you'd find on deviantart, in voiceover while pretty pictures float over the screen. That is how I felt while I was reading this novel. The prose is quite good, but the story, plot, and characterization fall short on every mark.

What exactly was the purpose of this novel?

Contrary to popular belief, The Catcher in the Rye has a purpose. I'm lost at the comparisons between Holden and Toru. Holden's little brother died from cancer a few years prior to the novel's opening. I think that's enough to justify his angst, considering that during that time period, his death was probably more painful than it would be in present day. If you've read the misery-porn that is My Sister's Keeper, you'll have an idea of how cancer effects fictional characters.

Toru's best friend committed suicide. I'll give his depression a pass. That's about it. His countless sexploits honestly made me want to introduce him to Anita Blake. They'd have fun together.

And yes, I know there are guys who attract multiple women and have various sexual relationships. Toru's sex life, however, was not presented in a realistic light. It was voyeuristic. I did not know why these women liked him and, more importantly, why they deemed him a sex god.

If you're wondering why so much of this review is devoted to sex -- here's the answer -- the novel is equally devoted to sex. Sex, death, loneliness, depression, and extreme oddities that even James Joyce would raise an eyebrow to.

The sheer pretentiousness of the protagonist and his friends is enough to elicit an exasperated sigh.

The better I got to know Nagasawa, the stranger he seemed. I had met a lot of weird people in my day, but none as strange as Nagasawa. He was a far more voracious reader than me, but he made it a rule never to touch a book by any author who had not been dead at least 30 years.

"That's the only kind of book I can trust," he said.

"It's not that I don't believe in contemporary literature," he added, "but I don't want to waste valuable time reading any book that has not had the baptism of time. Life is too short."

"What kind of authors do you like?" I asked, speaking in respectful tones to this man two years my senior.

"That's why I read them. If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. That's the world of hicks and slobs. Real people would be ashamed of themselves doing that. Haven't you noticed, Watanabe? You and I are the only real ones in this dorm. The other guys are crap."

This took me off guard. "How can you say that?"

"'Cause it's true. I know. I can see it. It's like we have marks on our foreheads. And besides, we've both read The Great Gatsby."

Because of course, special snowflakes, literature is only good if you deem it worthy, and if someone doesn't like what you like they're a hick or a slob. Please, jump thirty years into the future and become acquainted with your indie-than-thou hipster counterparts. They enjoy sipping coffee at bistros while they twirl their thriftstore eco-friendly scarves and discus the plights of starving African children while they listen to The Smiths, watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (and complain about the American adaptation of Open Your Eyes -- Vanilla Sky), while they read pretentious novels such as this to feel like they're superior to their peers. They probably jerk off to their liberal arts degrees at night while they fantasize about Charlie Kaufman.

It doesn't surprise me that this novel was popular amongst teens and young adults. Here, they have a lackluster Holden Caulfield to look up to. One who never realizes that, he too, is a "phony". We get the occasional dismissal of Nagasawa's ways, but they come late and are rather pathetic. Our passive protagonist does nothing but watch his so-called friend destroy his girlfriend bit by bit. He comforts her, offers her advice, but never tells Nagasawa off.

As I read through the scenes with Nagasawa, I couldn't help but roll my eyes. And, of course, this special Gary Stu -- who reads American literature, has a huge penis, can hook up with any girl, charm anyone, get anything he wants, who's rich, who's bound for success, who's one of the best students in their university, has a nice, intelligent, steady girlfriend, and claims to have slept with seventy girls -- chooses Toru as his friend. Wish fulfillment anyone?

As for Toru's sexual relationship with Naoka? He took advantage of her. This could be considered rape. She was not emotionally sound. She could not give consent. Would Toru have had sex with her if she was drunk and he was sober? Knowing him, probably so. And he'd have some artistic, pretentious excuse. But here's Toru's take on it:

I slept with Naoko that night. Was it the right thing to do? I can't tell. Even now, almost 20 years later, I can't be sure. I suppose I'll never know. But at the time, it was all I could do. She was in a heightened state of tension and confusion, and she made it clear she wanted me to give her release.

Because, of course, when a girl is crying over her dead ex-boyfriend, you just have to have sex with her. It's the only thing that'll make her feel better. And, of course, she's a virgin. And, of course, she has an orgasm because Toru is just that good.

What I don't understand is his hypocritical attitude towards sex. Doesn't he realize that he's just like the girls he has random one night stands with? He's no better than they are, but he describes them with such disdain, as if by being male, he's better than they are for wanting meaningless sex, but dirty for being with them. Later on in the novel, he regrets his attitude towards sex -- for two paragraphs. And that's only for his six month girlfriend. The other eight girls are "stupid" girls for whatever reason.

I'm also lost at Murakami's portrayal of sex for females. It's like he thinks women don't enjoy sex or masturbation unless they're having sex with a man. The girls give Toru hand jobs and blow jobs, while he gives nothing in return. And if he is "giving" it's when he's having sex with a girl who needs "release". From his mouth:

"It includes every man on the face of the earth," I explained. "Girls have periods and boys wank. Everybody."

Midori is something of a nymphomaniac, but when she actually gets into bed with Toru, she ends up giving him a hand job. What does he do for her? If you guessed nothing, you're right.

As hardly anything happens during the course of this novel. it would be pointless to comment on the pacing, but as I anticipated the introduction of Midori (who was nothing more than the standard manic pixie dream girl, down to an actual pixie cut, but still more entertaining than Toru and Naoko) I was rather disappointed to find that I had to slog through 60 pages before she made an appearance. This is why I hate passive protagonists (by the way, that's an oxymoron). They do nothing but sit on their pompous little asses and sip whiskey while they read John Updike, comment on their lost loves, gaze out their windows, write achingly emo love letters, and dream of dropping out of college because everything is just so beneath them.

Now, what did I like about this novel? Toru's interactions with Midori. His conversations with her are what kept my interest. They were beautifully written and gave Toru a spark of personality. But even they didn't give this book meaning. A few romantic scenes with fireflies, beer, kissing, and conversations about death won't save a novel. For me, this was like the anti-thesis of Looking for Alaska or The Catcher in the Rye. There was little humor, little focus, and few dynamic characters.

Naoko and Reiko didn't feel like real character. They felt like what a male wanted a female to be like. I suppose my greatest disappointment was that I was expected something profound, because I loved the premise and few sections, but the rest fell flat. It felt unreal, like a fantasy a nerdy, lonely, odd teenage boy would've conjured up for himself. Especially Naoko's commitment to Kizuki. And Reiko, like almost every female in this novel, had to have a sexual relationship with Toru, though she's old enough to be his mother and acts like an older sister. And, of course, it's the greatest sex of her life. Best of all? Murakami describes it all in pornographic detail. Almost all of the sex scenes are ridiculously gratuitous, but Murakami would have us believe that they're for "release".

The blurb tells readers that this is a novel about moving on from grief. The problem is that there are no attempts to move on. The characters languish in their grief, roaming blindly in their pretentiousness, and fizzle out towards the end. Outside forces act on them, but they do nothing.

I want to know what the purpose of this novel was. While the description was nice, the dialog was rather on the nose. The characters say everything they feel at any given moment. I won't even start on Toru's thoughts. I like the premise. I like forbidden love. I like love triangles, depressed girls, and tsunderes. I do not like 350 pages of pointless angst, sex, weirdness, and quaint descriptive prose. For me, this was the equivalent of Twilight without the vampires and with a male narrator. It has its moments, but as a whole, it's an odd, painful experience. There's so much good in this novel, but it's buried underneath unnecessary prose and an odd chauvinistic tone.

I'd only recommend this novel if you're ready to roll your eyes at various moments. Toru's moments with Midori and her father are sweet. They bring out an interesting side to his character. His moments with Reiko were interesting and his moments with Naoko held potential. In the end, he goes through a small change. But it's not enough for me to give this a full four stars.

3.5 stars. I will, however, check out the movie. The poster is pretty beautiful as well as the trailer but, like the premise, it's probably a lie. If you want a modern coming of age story named after a classic rock song check out Into the Great Wide Open by Kevin Canty. It lacks a love triangle, but it's much, much better....more

Sophia.Cory wrote: "Sophia. wrote: "But the rating! 4 stars! REALLY? HOW? I wanted to see that one little star so badly."

I don't know. I just ended up likingCory wrote: "Sophia. wrote: "But the rating! 4 stars! REALLY? HOW? I wanted to see that one little star so badly."

I don't know. I just ended up liking it. What can I say? If not for the existence of Midori, I..."

I can't even force myself to go on. Midori sounds so.. unrealistic to me. They all do. Who talks like that? Everything is just so awkward. Whatever. I'll try something else by him, maybe this was an exception or something....more
Jan 31, 2013 08:10AM

XenaWhat a great review, you've said everything i felt or was thinking while reading this book, but you worded them much more coherently than i could haveWhat a great review, you've said everything i felt or was thinking while reading this book, but you worded them much more coherently than i could have :)

I loved the moment with Midori's dying father too, it was sweet, and felt a lot more genuine and less pretentious than many of the other bits (mostly these are awkward sexual encounters with different females)...more
Jan 16, 2014 10:44PM

I have never been good at reading translations. It's always in the back of my mind that what I'm reading is not the piece in its original forms: it is not how the author originally wished it to be presented. I don't know, therefore, whether it is to Murakami or Norwegian Wood's translator Jay Rubin who I should give the credit for keeping me thoroughly engaged with this one.

I have never been good at reading translations. It's always in the back of my mind that what I'm reading is not the piece in its original forms: it is not how the author originally wished it to be presented. I don't know, therefore, whether it is to Murakami or Norwegian Wood's translator Jay Rubin who I should give the credit for keeping me thoroughly engaged with this one.

I immediately connected to Toru, the narrator and protagonist, because he was a university student, a reader, who was 19 and turning 20. Even though the character is in 1960s Japan, so much of the mundane aspects of his every day life were things that I could connect to.

I found the exploration of 'normal' and 'not-normal' incredibly intriguing. Whilst Naoko and Reiko spend most of the novel in a sort of hospital, I never got the impression that they were any more strange than Toru (a self confessed loner), Midori (who has a strange fascination with pornography, and can't cry at her father's funeral), Nagasawa (who doesn't seem to have any real emotions or attachments) or Hatsumi (Nagasawa's long-suffering girlfriend, who comes off as very repressed). Where the difference lies, I think, is that Naoko and Reiko feel unhealthy through their lack of normality, and worry that the way they act, the way they think, hurts others as well as themselves.

Suicide is an issue that runs throughout the novel, and with it (of course) does death. The messages coming through about these things were interesting. It seemed to me that Toru was unsure exactly what death meant to him, except for that 'Death exists, not as the opposite to, but as a part of life.' Looking back at the novel as a whole, I think death is handled in the same sort of way as in the Harry Potter series. (Odd comparison, I know) It has that same questioning nature, and the same raw honesty. It's something I have come to admire in authors when I feel this in their work.

The novel is, more than anything, a coming of age novel about a love triangle. The two relationships work so well that I think as a reader you begin to feel a lot like Toru does: you want him to be with Naoko when she is in the scene, and you want him to be with Midori when she appears. It's not a traditional love triangle I suppose in that the girls do not compete for his heart. They both must just be themselves and see where they end up. It's not a story of epic love and passion, but it's subtle, and seems more real.

The language in which Toru's world and feelings are described is simply gorgeous. I suppose I should credit both Murakami and Rubin here. I guess it's a collaborative effort, in many ways. So many simple sentences just reached out and grabbed me, either for their truth, beauty, wit or oddness.

Overall, this is a fantastic novel that I would recommend to everyone who has experienced (or is still doing so) the rollercoaster ride that is growing up and living without anyone to hold your hand in the best way that you know how.

(Not recommended at all for younger readers, some of the sex scenes and the language is quite graphic, as well as some themes being upsetting. I don't know if I could have read this when I was 16/17 for example, and really understood it.)...more

HydeyunaObviously Norwegian Wood is the greatest book I've ever read. Sometimes I have same think with Haruki about point of view about life. I was felt likeObviously Norwegian Wood is the greatest book I've ever read. Sometimes I have same think with Haruki about point of view about life. I was felt like became Toru Watanabe when he appears with Reiko at top of the roof XD. I thought Naoko disease bit really looks like Bipolar Disorder ~_~...more
Apr 15, 2010 02:56AM

Elizabeth McKennaIt's funny that you compared Norwegian Wood to Harry Potter, because after I finished reading it I told someone that I haven't felt this way SINCE reaIt's funny that you compared Norwegian Wood to Harry Potter, because after I finished reading it I told someone that I haven't felt this way SINCE reading HP. Haha! Great commentary. :)...more
Oct 24, 2012 05:19AM

I am a brand new Haruki Murakami’s fan and having read Kafka on the Shore as my first novel written by him, I found myself gripped under the surreal and unimaginable experience his writing provided to me as a reader. And that intrigued me to read another of his famous novels, Norwegian Wood. Before reviewing or rather I would say giving my naïve opinion on this book, I better start with my assumptions w.r.t this book.

When we read someone like him, we start expecting something new and better eveI am a brand new Haruki Murakami’s fan and having read Kafka on the Shore as my first novel written by him, I found myself gripped under the surreal and unimaginable experience his writing provided to me as a reader. And that intrigued me to read another of his famous novels, Norwegian Wood. Before reviewing or rather I would say giving my naïve opinion on this book, I better start with my assumptions w.r.t this book.

When we read someone like him, we start expecting something new and better every time we read more of their works but along the process we tend to forget that there are very few writers in this world who challenge themselves to tread a different path and walking upon it too and that’s exactly Murakami did with this novel, whose popularity surprised him also.

So, it’s not exactly a Love story in the eyes of many, but someone like me who has accepted and marveled at the different kinds of love that exist in this world, it definitely is one and a beautiful one at that. It’s a love story with a pragmatic and realistic view on human emotions. But again, there are several other things murakami surfaced along with love, like rain and how it symbolizes sadness (IMO), like Death and quoting here: “Death exists, not as the opposite but as the part of life,” but in this book, Death exists as a part of this Book. It’s a character in itself and needs to be understood not in a negative sense of death because it’s simply not, quoting again: “I’m getting rid of anything from the past so I can be reborn in the future.”

Why one would hate this book, there can be many reasons but to love this book, one need to put themselves in shoes of Toru, Naoko, Midori, Reiko, Hatsumi, Nagasawa and Kizuki (who started it all). And then one can understand its true essence to cherish the two basic treasures of humans: Love & Life....more

TejGarima wrote: "Tej wrote: "What? Did you edit it or something? It shows Dec,4 and then the comments from long past, ha!

I thought I missed it becase ofGarima wrote: "Tej wrote: "What? Did you edit it or something? It shows Dec,4 and then the comments from long past, ha!

I thought I missed it becase of not being here... ;)

Nevertheless, it is very informative ..."

Good God!!! I had NO IDEA, now I saw your Calvino review then I thought how come are you editing all of them...

It sure is like we are being 'ABUSED' ha, showing newbies all they wish them to see through us, drones in a beehive huh!!!

Is there anything else that I don't know????...more
Dec 04, 2013 08:53AM

GarimaTej wrote: "Garima wrote: "Tej wrote: "What? Did you edit it or something? It shows Dec,4 and then the comments from long past, ha!

I thought I missedTej wrote: "Garima wrote: "Tej wrote: "What? Did you edit it or something? It shows Dec,4 and then the comments from long past, ha!

I thought I missed it becase of not being here... ;)

Nevertheless, it is ve..."

I was surprised then later got shocked this morning. Moreover all my not that-great-reviews are getting floated, haha. All you need to know that goodreads has completely lost it today....more
Dec 04, 2013 09:42AM

Turns out I can't find a SINGLE fuck to give. It takes forever to start, the characters are bland and absolutely unrealistic, they don't sound real, the sex is so unhealthy and weird and awkward, the narrator is pretentious as fuck, the dialogues are painful, and the plot -- huh, wait, there's no plot.

We have lost even this twilight.No one saw us this evening hand in handwhile the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my windowthe fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sunburned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenchedin that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?Who else was there?Saying what?Why will the whole of love come on me suddenlywhen I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closeClenched Soul

We have lost even this twilight.No one saw us this evening hand in handwhile the blue night dropped on the world.

I have seen from my windowthe fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.

Sometimes a piece of sunburned like a coin in my hand.

I remembered you with my soul clenchedin that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?Who else was there?Saying what?Why will the whole of love come on me suddenlywhen I am sad and feel you are far away?

The book fell that always closed at twilightand my blue sweater rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.

Always, always you recede through the eveningstoward the twilight erasing statues.

Pablo Neruda

I don't really know why, but I had the urge to connect this book with this particular poem of Neruda. I guess the tone of sadness, the helplessly romantic setting and the shudder I got from the coldness of Murakami narration had the same effect with the poem above. I experience something very different of Murakami than the other Japanese authors I've been reading.

Finally getting this book into my hand (a new copy), was quite an experience also. After holding myself not to buy the Indonesian translation and searching for the English copy which are not too pricey (89,000 IDR @Aksara). I read it slowly, like reading some poem or hearing a song over and over.

There are just soo many things I want to quote from this book. I feel like 17, 21 again, for ever. Like Toru, I'm the one who survived those ages. I'm the one who came out from this book living. And I feel sad, like wanting to run away from Tokyo wandering with a backpack at my back, spacing out and eating nothing. All those damn memories, all those weight of depression, all those loneliness, all those fucking, all those love, and all those lost. In so many Sundays I would pass, the "quiet, peaceful and lonely" Sundays until I'm 37 and hearing "Norwegian Wood" on some plane going somewhere.

I feel like dropping this book at my feet while I'm sitting and just cry. Coz it's so damn good. Damn fucking good....more

I straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.

I almost stopped reading after this maudlin and downbeat opening passage. There are doors that I have kept close for years, memories of my own I thought are better left alone there, regrets and lost connections with people that were at one time the most im I straightened up and looked out the plane window at the dark clouds hanging over the North Sea, thinking of what I had lost in the course of my life: times gone forever, friends who had died or disappeared, feelings I would never know again.

I almost stopped reading after this maudlin and downbeat opening passage. There are doors that I have kept close for years, memories of my own I thought are better left alone there, regrets and lost connections with people that were at one time the most important presences in my life. When I read about Toru Watanabe’s walk in the meadow, all I could picture was myself at 20, up above the treeline in the mountains with the girl I was in love with at the time, drunk on summer sunshine and deafened by the song of the cicadas in the high grass. I put the book down and spend the next hour trying to remember all the details of that day. They are mostly gone. I wish now I had written it down, like Murakami tried to do here.

Where could we have disappeared to? How could such a thing have happened? Everything that seemed so important back then – Naoko, and the self I was then, and the world I had then: where could they have all gone? […] Which is why I am writing this book. To think. To understand. It just happens to be the way I’m made. I have to write things down to feel I fully comprehend them.

I’ve noticed mixed reactions from the readers regarding this novel. Some complain that it is atypical, too conventional and lacking the daring, the weirdness and the depth of other works by him. Others give the highest rating. I am in the second category, mostly for the way the experiences of Watanabe bring forward and shine a light on similar moments from a youth more focused on having fun than on trying to understand life and relationships.

Murakami makes it easier for the reader to recognize himself in Watanabe : I was just an ordinary kid who liked to read books and listen to music and didn’t stand out in any way that would prompt someone like Kizuki to pay attention to me. I think it will be hard to find somebody who doesn’t like to read books (at least here on Goodreads) or to listen to music. Or who didn’t walk for hours on the street of a big city without any other purpose than to absorb the sights, the smells, the faces of the people around you. Or who doesn’t look back with nostalgia on his school days, where friendships came so easy to us, when we could afford to be careless about the people around us. Anyway, I found Tore Watanabe easy to relate to and this made it easier for me to ignore some of the less convincing aspects of his character, like his political apathy or his social success despite his self-confessed introvert nature, not to mention his slightly promiscuous sexual emancipation.

Watanabe is the central character, and the story revolves around his emotional growing up, his learning to accept responsibility for his actions and his ability to deal with loss and rejection. The first loss that marks Toru is the suicide of Kizuki – his best friend from highschool, an event he deals with mostly by moving away and bottling up his emotions. When he moves to Tokyo to continue his studies at a higher level, he seems both self-assured and rudderless. Two contradictory character traits that illustrate his above average intelligence and his lack of ambition or passion for any particular subject. He is content to drift along and let events happen to him.

Soon though, he gets reunited with Kizuki’s emotionally fragile girlfriend, Naoko, and they start going out in a casual way. Toru also befriends another very intelligent boy from university, Nagasawa, his exact opposite in terms of ambition and motivation. They share a passion for books and for casual sex with girls they pick up in bars. Later additions to the cast include a non-conformist and exuberant girl in Toru’s drama class and an elderly lady musician with psychological issues, Reiko Ishida.

Since Toru Watanabe is kind of bland and generic as a main character, most of the charm, the tension and the change in the novel are provided by these secondary characters and the impact they have on Toru’s emotional development.

Naoko is sensitive and vulnerable, definitely marked by the people around her who committed suicide, unable to adapt to the realities of the world. She lost both a sister and her boyfriend Kizuki, and now she is half eager, half afraid of starting a relationship with Toru. She knows she has psychological problems and checks herself into a mountain retreat. I may not find her morbid tendencies very appealing or easy to relate to, but her letters and her conversation are very convincing:

Ordinary girls as young as I am are basically indifferent to whether things are fair or not. The central question for them is not whether something is fair but whether or not it’s beautiful or will make them happy. Fair is a man’s word, finally, but I can’t help feeling it’s also exactly the right word for me now. And because questions of beauty and happiness have become such difficult and convoluted propositions for me now, I suspect, I find myself clinging instead to other standards – like, whether or not something is fair or honest or universally true.

Her influence on Toru is subtle yet powerful, as he tries to love her for what she is (“Why do you like weird people?” / “I don’t see you as weird!”), accepting that all of us are damaged to one degree or another, and that we need somebody beside us to ‘help us make it through the night’. Toru calls his daily struggle to keep living his ‘winding up the spring’, a reiteration of the theme from The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, while Naoko uses the metaphor of the well at the bottom of the garden as the illustration of her fears, another theme used in TWUBC. Other recurring themes that I have come to recognize as Murakami’s signature touches are his love of music, of cooking, of books and of time spent alone, I think there are a couple of cats also somewhere in the text.

The conversations between Toru and Naoko capture perfectly the sudden enthusiasms of youth, followed by moody silences and retreats into the inner self and sometimes by philosophical musings well ahead of their age:

“- So if you understand me better, what then?- You don’t get it, do you? I said. It’s not a question of ‘what then’. Some people get a kick out of reading railroad timetables and that’s all they do all day. Some people make huge model boats out of matchsticks. So what’s wrong if there happens to be one guy in the world who enjoys trying to understand you?- Kind of like a hobby? She said, amused.- Sure, I guess you could call it a hobby. Most normal people would call it friendship or love or something, but if you want to call it a hobby, that’s OK, too.”

Up until now the plot develops into the romance of two young people trying to get together. Complications arise when Toru falls under the spell of Midori Kobayashi, the temperamental opposite of the introverted Naoko. Midori is outspoken and reckless and flouting conventions (“Midori said she wanted to climb a tree, but unfortunately there were no climbable trees in Shinjuku.”) The reader, and Toru, can’t help being charmed by her vivacity and curiosity and even the slight hint of danger she confers on every encounter. With the novel being placed in 1968, the year students all around the world demonstrated against the establishment, it was easy for me to see her as a flower power child, especially after she declares:

“I’m not going to believe in any damned revolution. Love is all I’m going to believe in.”

As we get to know her better, we learn that Midori has her own struggles with death in her family and shallow relationships. She sometimes lies to cover her vulnerabilities, but overall she is a brave soldier who refuses to take the easy way out (that damn suicide fascination so many people in the novel manifest). My favourite quote from her is an echo from the movie Forest Gump, another example of a story that some people find fascinating while others find corny and contrived, just like Norwegian Wood:

You know how they’ve got these cookie assortments, and you like some but you don’t like others? And you eat up all the ones you like, and the only ones left are the ones you don’t like so much? I always think about that when something painful comes up. ‘Now I just have to polish these off, and everything will be OK’. Life is a box of cookies.

One of my issues with the novel is that I liked both of Toru’s love interests, and every time he went with Naoko I was sorry for Midori, when he came back to Midori I felt sorry for Naoko. The boy faces a difficult decision (view spoiler)[ and Murakami made quite angry when he chose to kill off one of the girls in order to free his protagonist for the other one. And speaking of spoilers, I thought the final sex scene with the older lady for totally gratuitous. Well written and argued, but unnecessary. (hide spoiler)]

The most annoying character in the book is the smart, but selfish Nagasawa. I might have disliked him most because I felt guilty of some of the same attitudes in my youth: focused on keeping my freedom and my options open in relationships, arrogant about the books I’ve read and about good results in exams, careless of the feeling of others. Nagasawa is particularly cruel to his girlfriend Hatsumi, who puts up with all his infidelities and his lack of commitment. One quote from this boy illustrates best his attitude. It starts good, but then reveals his elitist and disdainful core:

If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking. That’s the world of hicks and slobs. or, “Don’t be sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.”

Until now I’ve presented all the young actors in this character driven drama. The exception is Reiko Ishida, a lady battling her own personal demons in the mountain sanatorium where she becomes the best friend of Naoko. Her own story arc is one of the best rendered sections of the novel, probably because she has a better grasp on her feelings and of her goals that the still seeking youths. She gives me the closing quotes of my review, the kernels of wisdom that Toru gets to keep after all his emotional journey, and she also gives me the soundtrack list for the novel, always a major feature in a Murakami novel, setting the mood and anchoring the story in the pop culture of its period. So here’s what Midori has to say to urge us to embrace life in all its beauty and pain:

“Death exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life.” and, “All of us (by which I mean ‘all’ of us, both normal and not-so-normal) are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world. We don’t live with the mechanical precision of a bank account or by measuring our lines and angles with rulers and protractors.”

The musical score focuses extensively on the Beatles songbook, with the title song referring to the fleeting nature of young love and later songs to a sense of loss or solitude, like Eleanor Rigby or The Fool on the Hill, all sung by Reiko on her guitar. Other tracks include:

I had started out thinking that at its heart this book was a love story. But it is about so much more than that - love, coming-of-age, death, loss and sorrow. Murakami does an amazing job at putting complicated feelings into words. I loved how he keeps reminding one of the simplest pleasures of life all along the story - beauty of the sunset, walking on a moonlit path, smell of the coffee, freshness of a spring day, caress of a gentle breeze and of course music. It is only fair to give a part ofI had started out thinking that at its heart this book was a love story. But it is about so much more than that - love, coming-of-age, death, loss and sorrow. Murakami does an amazing job at putting complicated feelings into words. I loved how he keeps reminding one of the simplest pleasures of life all along the story - beauty of the sunset, walking on a moonlit path, smell of the coffee, freshness of a spring day, caress of a gentle breeze and of course music. It is only fair to give a part of the credit to Jay Rubin for 'the music of the words'.

I did miss Muarakmi's bizarre,fantastic imagination. I have read three of his books so far and am amazed at how different an experience it was each time. My fondness for his work just keeps growing.

I will close the review with an excerpt from the book where Murakami deftly expresses Toru's great distress at a point in his life where getting through even a single day is a great deal of pain.

" Thinking back on the year 1969, all that comes to mind for me is a swamp-a deep, sticky bog that feels as if it's going to suck my shoe off each time I take a step. I walk through the mud, exhausted. In front of me, behind me, I can see nothing but an endless swampy darkness. Time itself slogged along in rhythm with my faltering steps. The people around me had gone on ahead long before, while my time and I hung back,struggling through the mud....."...more

Norwegian Wood, while boasting none of that surHaving read Kafka on the Shore, Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, After the Quake, and Sputnik Sweetheart, I decided it was high time I read the novel that really put Haruki Murakami on the Map of Superstardom. Norwegian Wood, by all accounts, was the work that made his later triumphs possible. Still, I approached the work guardedly, recognizing that popularity and quality rarely go with hands clasped in loving security.

In short, my fears were deftly allayed.

Norwegian Wood, while boasting none of that surreality that drew me so strongly to Murakami's later works, is still on all counts an excellent novel. It foreshadows the art that he would later hone in more incredible works but is not overwhelmed by its place as Prototype and stands stubbornly under its own worthy powers. The book is emotionally satisfying, wryly humourous, and carries enough of the psychological burden of true romance that I couldn't help but enjoy the journey.

As far as the story is concerned, Murakami pits a young, collegiate protagonist (Toru Watanabe) against a world made crazy by ill-founded idealism and the fascism that idealism nurtures. The world around him feeds on dreams and the need for rebellion—not worthy rebellion but only that typical rebellion that the young feel is necessary to young lives. Even in the midst of his cynicism toward the mindless abandon of his classmates, Watanabe finds himself abandoned to his desperate love for Naoko, the psychologically wounded girlfriend of his now-deceased best friend from high school. Even as he labours to support Naoko through her lengthy convalescence, writing her letters and occasionally visiting her remote community, Watanabe takes the edge off his pining by participating in two oddly similar friendships, both with fellow students of his particular university. These work to show him both who he wants to be and who he does not want to be.

I'm not certain if Norwegian Wood should be classified as romantic fiction, bildungsroman, or as something else. Certainly their are elements of the two well-mined genres, but I can't help feeling that the novel is perhaps something more worthwhile than either of the two classifications. In any case, I liked it well enough and it's normal enough to appeal to even those who aren't ready for Murakami's more curious work.

This is my 11th time to read a Haruki Murakami book and I am a bit disappointed. All the previous books had the fantasy and strange elements that can make one adequately engaged while reading. This one does not have any talking cats, flying fish or a character who sleeps for straight one week. This is just an old-fashioned love story between a young Japanese man his two female lovers amidst the usual Murakami concoctions of music (pop in this book), cooking, loonies, suicide and even, yes, well.This is my 11th time to read a Haruki Murakami book and I am a bit disappointed. All the previous books had the fantasy and strange elements that can make one adequately engaged while reading. This one does not have any talking cats, flying fish or a character who sleeps for straight one week. This is just an old-fashioned love story between a young Japanese man his two female lovers amidst the usual Murakami concoctions of music (pop in this book), cooking, loonies, suicide and even, yes, well. The blurb says that it also deals with student uprisings in the 60's but it was only in a couple of scenes and did not left any strong imprint in my brain while reading. Somebody likened the protagonist Toru Watanabe to Holden Cauldfeld but I did not see any similarities between them. For one, Toru Watanabe is too focus on his erections instead of rebelling due to teenage angst. The sexual content of this book is not decent enough to be read by any well-meaning youth especially the minors. For me the characters are too young to engage in senseless and careless sexual gratifications.

If you have not read any book by Haruki Murakami, don't start with this one. His other books are a lot better. Or you can start with this one (let's say if you want to read his books in chronological order) but bear in mind that this is not a good representative of his whole works. Among the other 10 books by him that I've read, my favorite is still The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (4 stars), Kafka on the Shore (4 stars) and After Dark (4 stars). If you are only giving him a book, say just to sample his writing, go for any of these three. I really liked them!

Between 1Q84 (2 stars) and this one was a period of 10 months. I intentionally did not read any Murakami for some breathing spell. I thought that if I refrain from reading his works, I would miss him and find the next book the same as how I felt for his works when I read those three that I really liked. Wrong. It looks like that for me, the more I read Murakami, the less and less I find his book worth for my time and money. Too bad. I guess I have now reached a Murakami overload.

Maybe I will read his other 5 works (yes, I horded his books; that's how I used to like him) in my tbr folder after a couple of years....more

There are three main themes: The unpredictable nature of growing up, the sadness of death, and love. Essentially it's a love story, and it felt like your typical one, until about halfway through. Then I slowly realized that it had become something so much deeper than that; something so much more.

Part of its attraction had to do with the feeling that I'm similar to--and that I strongly understand--the protagonist. Plus I've had my own complicated set of relationships recently, so the book hit hoThere are three main themes: The unpredictable nature of growing up, the sadness of death, and love. Essentially it's a love story, and it felt like your typical one, until about halfway through. Then I slowly realized that it had become something so much deeper than that; something so much more.

Part of its attraction had to do with the feeling that I'm similar to--and that I strongly understand--the protagonist. Plus I've had my own complicated set of relationships recently, so the book hit home in a lot of personal ways.

This was a huge hit in Japan -- I mean HUGE, and one can see why. From what I understand, it's not your typical Murakami book, but I can't wait to read more from him. Clearly he's a great talent. ...more

Close your eyes. Feel the breeze sweep the hair off your neck. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hear the birds welcoming the day. Smell the dew-soaked grass. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes and soak in all the beauty and heartache today has to offer...This is Murakami's greatest ability; he pulls you into his own world and, at the same time, awakens you to your own. It is also his cruelest trick.

And while I love Murakami and could talk about his books all day, it really is difficult to try and bClose your eyes. Feel the breeze sweep the hair off your neck. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hear the birds welcoming the day. Smell the dew-soaked grass. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes and soak in all the beauty and heartache today has to offer...This is Murakami's greatest ability; he pulls you into his own world and, at the same time, awakens you to your own. It is also his cruelest trick.

And while I love Murakami and could talk about his books all day, it really is difficult to try and briefly summarize any one of his works. So, rather than make an attempt that will surely result in what resembles a dissertation, I'll save you the heartbeats. Instead, I'll redirect you here and leave you with an arguably insignificant, but much loved quote:

Haruki Murakami (Japanese: 村上 春樹) is a popular contemporary Japanese writer and translator. His work has been described as 'easily accessible, yet profoundly complex'. He can be located on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/harukimuraka...

Since childhood, Murakami has been heavily influenced by Western culture, particularly Western music and literature. He grew up reading a range of works by AmHaruki Murakami (Japanese: 村上 春樹) is a popular contemporary Japanese writer and translator. His work has been described as 'easily accessible, yet profoundly complex'. He can be located on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/harukimuraka...

Since childhood, Murakami has been heavily influenced by Western culture, particularly Western music and literature. He grew up reading a range of works by American writers, such as Kurt Vonnegut and Richard Brautigan, and he is often distinguished from other Japanese writers by his Western influences.

Murakami studied drama at Waseda University in Tokyo, where he met his wife, Yoko. His first job was at a record store, which is where one of his main characters, Toru Watanabe in Norwegian Wood, works. Shortly before finishing his studies, Murakami opened the coffeehouse 'Peter Cat' which was a jazz bar in the evening in Kokubunji, Tokyo with his wife.

Many of his novels have themes and titles that invoke classical music, such as the three books making up The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle: The Thieving Magpie (after Rossini's opera), Bird as Prophet (after a piano piece by Robert Schumann usually known in English as The Prophet Bird), and The Bird-Catcher (a character in Mozart's opera The Magic Flute). Some of his novels take their titles from songs: Dance, Dance, Dance (after The Dells' song, although it is widely thought it was titled after the Beach Boys tune), Norwegian Wood (after The Beatles' song) and South of the Border, West of the Sun (the first part being the title of a song by Nat King Cole)....more